Dear Mom,
It’s been a busy day, and I’m here marveling at how you did it the way you did–juggling two kids and three jobs like a pro. If I could go back and wipe a few more counters, vacuum voluntarily instead of under duress, I would, you know. Instead, I let karma flow through the generations and bite my tongue when the kids “don’t feel like” helping.
I know they’ll pull through when their time comes.
It surprises me how often my thoughts are drawn to you. I hear your words and watch myself go through the motions–your motions.
I watch myself shop for them, just like you did. I don’t want them to feel barriers or obstacles. We don’t buy EVERYTHING they want, but the clothes, the shoes, the swimming lessons will never be questioned on the budget.
I watch myself wipe fridge handles and clean up spills and I hear your words escape my lips:
“Put your dishes in the sink, please.”
“If you put your clothes in the dirty laundry basket, right when you get dressed, it won’t make a big mess in your room.”
I see myself in the late night moments of making life work, of packing lunches and planning meals and it looked so easy the way you made it all fit. Maybe it was Alan Parson’s Project or Eddie Rabbit spinning vinyl that inspired your candle to keep on burning. For me, it’s thoughts of your clean counters.
I promised myself I’d come here.. a weekly dedication to the raisin-soaked fingers of mothers everywhere–an ode to clean counters and candle-burning women. So here I am.
I looked at my underwear and thought of you today, too, Mom.
I remember you prioritizing hockey equipment, new school clothes, piano lessons and hair cuts before you’d invest a dime in a nice, new pair of panties for yourself. When you did finally get yourself new ones, it was like Christmas!
I noticed it’s been a while since I’d dropped a dollar or two on some frillies to put ’round my own cozy zones. Makes me smile. I almost wear my old ones with a sort of pride–proof I love my kids, or something.
The kids started piano lesssons a couple weeks ago. I can’t wait for you to see how adorable they are tapping away at the keys. Feels like yesterday that it was me sitting at the piano bench and you on the phone with your mom talking about my piano lessons.
Clean counters and ratty underwear may not be everyone’s thing, but for me they’re the trademark of a hard working mom, who loves her kids and is on the track, with all the right priorities in her pocket.
I love you.
Tera